


We have a future together, but who exactly is "We"?

by Hino



Category: Pyre (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Just something fun I threw together forever ago, Set Before Canon, Use of cut content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-03 21:54:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14005620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hino/pseuds/Hino
Summary: In the annual festival that takes place in the Downside, there is a fortune teller who sits with a crystal ball.And now, a Nightwing has come to see his future.





	We have a future together, but who exactly is "We"?

The bright flashing lights and the loud music was a sure indicator that the Festival had rolled into the Downside. It was an annual thing, some little spark of hope and life in the otherwise desolate land. After all, people were cast down in lieu of execution, and it left their Hope low. The Festival had been concocted in some help of saving those who felt shattered, and for entertaining those who had adopted the Downside as their home.

Erisa was one of those people in need of saving, and her salvation came with the Crystal Ball she’d stumbled upon just a few Festivals ago. It was green and covered with runes, and it seems as if something floated within it, although she had not been able to discern it while it was on display. The Bog Crone who was running the little pop-up stall had claimed the ball was mystical but unsolved, as if the magic within was refusing to cooperate, and the Crone knew better than to press unwilling magic. The Sol had been slammed down faster than Erisa had ever paid for something in her life, and the Crystal Ball had become hers in a matter of moments.

 

Now, she sat in her own little stand; a tent of deep purple, with the Crystal Ball sitting in a little stand on a table, covered in dark red cloth. It was tacky and cheap, a mockery of what the Bog Crones in the Southern Bogs did, but mockeries were what the Festival was built on.

Across from her, a little Cur family was running a stand serving the delicacies of their race, the smell drifting over to her on the soft morning breeze. It was rather pleasant in the Downside Prairie, and the most hospitable of places to be in all the Downside. Often the Festival would draw in stragglers from the Sandfolds, and more than a few lives had been saved, lured onwards by the scents of multicultural cooking.

The tents beside her were offering little handmade trinkets. Her left was full of Talismans, both for use in the Rites that she’d heard of in passing, and for peace of mind, imbued with prayers for the Eight Scribes. On the right was little pretty things that had been flushed down the Sclorian, more wide in range than Falcon Ron, and cheaper too. The Festival was known for its bargains, but the fact it only came around once a year was what justified them.

“It seems interesting this year,” Erisa mumbled, setting a hand on the ball. It glowed under her touch, and the patterns inside swelled.

_ “Interesting is a loose definition, don’t you agree?” _ answered a voice. The glow gently pulsed with the words, and it was as if for a moment, everything slowed down, only returning to its actual speed once the voice had fallen silent.  _ “These stalls are as bland as the Sandfolds bordering us. It makes me laugh, as so.”  _ The world once again slowed as the voice came, followed by hollow laughter, more of a hasty addition than something genuine.

Erisa removed her hand from the ball for a moment and leant back in her chair. It wasn’t a Crystal Ball that the Bog Crone had sold her, but something known as a Beyonder Crystal, which happened to house a Wraith. She was old, from the Empire of Sahr many hundreds of years ago, and had been imprisoned due to the fact she had tried to assassinate Soliam Murr, along with the Sisters of the Arch.

Now, the Wraith merely had the luxury of sitting around for all eternity, telling fortunes and creating little magical trinkets whenever it took her fancy, alongside complaining about the Scribes themselves, much to Erisa’s amusement.

 

The Nomad’s eyes had started to slip shut when a soft and gentle hand cupped her face. Erisa didn’t jolt or open her eyes at the action though, instead leaning into it. “Sandra...”

A soft laugh, more genuine than the one she’d given before.  _ “Not the place to be dozing off, my dear. You never know who might be sneaking around.” _

At those words, Erisa sat up, feeling Sandra’s touch fade away. She opened her eyes, setting her gaze on the stranger standing in the entrance of her tent, seeming unsure he was meant to even be there. The Nomad leant forward, placing her elbows on the table and resting her chin in her palm. “Hello.”

“Hello.” The voice, to the credit of its owner, was rather calm. There were a few little trinkets, candles and otherworldly things that Erisa had accumulated over the years, giving off an ominous feel. “You’re a fortune teller.”

_ “What a genius. Surely the Scribes would smile upon him and take him into their ranks.”  _ Sandra spoke with such thick sarcasm, that Erisa suspected that it was her words that slowed the fabric of reality, and not the otherworldly magic that the Beyonder Crystal gave off. 

Erisa softly laughed. “I am. Care to see what the Scribes have in store for you?” She held out a hand and beckoned the stranger in, letting her other hand rest atop the Beyonder Crystal, trailing her fingers across the glass gently. She left no marks on the surface, leaving it polished and shimmering. “I’m sure they all smile upon you.”

 

Her hand hovered for a moment, and Erisa considered dropping it, but the stranger stepped in. The tent flap closed behind him, blanketing the tape in darkness, with only the soft, ambient glow of the Beyonder Crystal to illuminate it. Strange marks shone on the fabric walls, adding to the ominous mood of the room. “Come now.” Erisa took the stranger’s hand, squeezing it. “Tell me your name. Can’t see the future of someone I don’t know.”

“It’s... Brighton.” There was hesitation in his voice, giving an unintentional squeeze to Erisa’s hand. He seemed skeptical of being here, and Sandra’s laughter echoed in the back of the Nomad’s mind as she watched the newcomer.

“Brighton,” Erisa repeated, rolling the word around her tongue a few times, trying to see if it rang any bells. She didn’t know a Brighton, and by the lack of comment from Sandra, the Wraith had no idea who he was. “Right. Place your hands atop the crystal ball, if you would.” Erisa took her hands away from the Beyonder Crystal and let Brighton set his atop it. She set hers upon her guest’s, noting that his hands were cold and clammy. “Nervous?”

He nodded. “I’ve never had a fortune told before, nor dabbled in magic.” His fingers didn’t leave streaks on the Beyonder Crystal but Erisa could feel the Wraith’s displeasure at having someone so unhygienic laying their hands on her.

Erisa offered a courteous smile. “Very well, Brighton. Let me see what the future has in store for you.” 

Closing her eyes, Erisa let herself relax, tuning into the Beyonder Crystal. Despite the fact Brighton’s hands were shaking under hers, she could still connect to the mystic energies beneath. It made the atmosphere thick, and the patterns on the wall glowed intensely. Faintly, Erisa could hear Brighton whimpering in fear, but she ignored it, focusing her mind on the power that Sandra could harness, letting the Wraith pour it into her, pull her mind into the domain of the Crystal without tethering her to it.   
  


The Nomad opened her eyes, and the brilliant glow that radiated from the Crystal like an aura now poured forth from her eyes and gaping mouth, making her look more ethereal spirit than human. Brighton might have been screaming, but she wouldn’t know, senses taken away. Sandra had never given her a vision this intense, but the futures of previous clients had been boring, uneventful, and doomed to end in the Downside.

This though, this was something else. Before Erisa, in her twisted, emerald gaze, stood Sandra, channelling the future through herself. She had taken Brighton’s place, and stood where his chair was. There was no tent here; no table or even the Downside. Instead, it was just Sandra, Erisa, and the green abyss that the Wraith called him.

The vision appeared in the mist that rose up from Sandra’s body, images appearing like a slideshow, full of holes, shaky, but understandable. She could see Brighton, wearing blue robes, standing by a flame of a matching shade. She could see him atop Mount Alodiel, something she’d only ever seen in paintings, standing in a strange waterfall that coursed upwards, towards the Stars. She could see the Archjustice, looming over a book, reading intently, and as she focused, pooled her thoughts into this one moment, she could see that the Archjustice did not have his mask.

She could see that the Archjustice himself was Brighton, the timid little thing sitting before her.

 

The energy faded all at once, and Erisa fell forward, pinning Brighton’s hands under her as she fell forward, almost faceplanting the table. Leaning on the Crystal was the only thing stopping her, and if she had to crush her guest’s hands, then she would.

“Are you alright, miss?” Brighton stood, lifting his hands off the Crystal and turning them over so he could grasp Erisa’s own. “Squeeze my hands if you can hear me.”

She did so, weakly, and Brighton sighed in relief. He carefully got up and rounded the table, helping Erisa lean back in her chair. It was only once he’d made sure that she was okay that he let her go, wiping the sweat off on the edges of the table cloth. He hoped she couldn’t see, but Sandra knew what he was doing, and she scowled at him, an impressive feat considering her eyes were closed.

“ _ You should go with him,”  _ Sandra whispered, the world slowing as she projected from the glass orb and cupped Erisa’s face, trying to bring her back to her senses.  _ “That place, it was mystical. Many futures seem to end there, or to begin once more. The Scribes have done many awful things, but I am loathe to admit that waterfall may be something grand.” _

“Your future...” Her voice was weak, sleepy, but Erisa made sure to speak clearly, and Brighton made sure to listen. “Is on Mount Alodiel...”

Brighton seemed to, well, brighten. A smile spread on his face, as genuine joy seemed to flood over him. “That’s a relief. I had just joined this travelling wagon, and I wasn’t sure if they really knew how to get out of here, or if they were just lying when they said it was on the mountain.”

_ “Ask him,” _ Sandra pressed, looking into Erisa’s half-closed eyes, trying to get her message across.  _ “Tell him this future. Tell him it is yours.” _   
  


It was not the first time Erisa had twisted a vision of the future to suit her needs. Often, she and Sandra had lied, or told a half-truth, either in exchange for Sol or for food. Those lies had been little, though, embellishments. This was an outright one, and although Erisa knew how to keep a straight face and an even voice, she still reached for the Crystal, setting a hand atop it and finding comfort when Sandra joined her, ghostly hands giving Erisa’s a reassuring squeeze.

“Take me with you. In your vision, I saw myself. I was with you.” She looked Brighton dead in the eyes, making sure not to let her facade slip. Sandra was grinning, almost bouncing with nervous energy. While she was not one to often let the emotion grasp her, the mere concept of escaping the Downside was appealing. Perhaps someone above in the Commonwealth could set her free. After all, according to Erisa, the Bog-Crones above were quite clever, and had far more resources than those down here.

Brighton raised an eyebrow. “You were with me?” he asked.

Erisa nodded. Sandra chuckled softly.  _ “Tell him this was his fate.” _

“It was in your future to come here, and to be told this.” She was trying to dress it up, make it seem more mystical, and it seemed as if Brighton was buying into it, much to the genuine amusement of Sandra. There was nothing wrong with her laughter, but the contact with the Beyonder Crystal, plus Sandra’s speech, meant that reality slowed and sped up with no rhyme or reason, leaving Erisa more than a little disoriented.

The man stood there for a little while longer, analyzing the situation. Erisa waited patiently, letting herself be assessed. It would do no good to panic and shoo him away now, not after she’d made such a bold claim.  _ “He is smart, that much he can have,”  _ Sandra noted in the same way someone compliments a small child for realizing a door has a handle; dry, unamused, but ultimately right.

 

Slowly, Brighton’s analytic gaze eased up, and he offered Erisa a hand. “We need three people to make it to Mount Alodiel,” he explained, helping the Nomad to her feet. “There are two at the moment, but I think taking you along would be wise.”

He offered a smile, and Erisa made sure to return it. “Best not change the future,” she replied, letting her hand slip free of Brighton’s and into her pocket where she kept her Sol, silently working out if she needed to read any more fortunes today, or if she simply could travel with this man right now. “When do you leave?”

“After the Festival. Our wagon is parked on the road to Hollowroot. Red roof, with a large horn atop it, you won’t miss it.” The smile grew, and Erisa nodded, a subtle motion for him to leave. It seemed he at least knew about those, heading to the entrance of the tent. “Well then, I’ll see you after the Festival. Do you need help-”

She held up a hand to silence him before picking up one of the heavy crates with ease and tucking it against her hip. He nervously laughed and lifted the flap of the tent, letting in some light before it closed behind him, placing Erisa back in the muted green darkness. “Well...”

Sandra appeared shrugging.  _ “It seems as if we are out of here.” _

The world slowed, and when it started again, Erisa was grinning.

 

“It seems so.”


End file.
